


69 SolKat Prompts

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: 69, Changing POV, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oneshot Chapters, Prompt Fic, Ranging Genre, Ranging Length, Ranging Races, Ranging Rating, Romance, Some Archive Warnings Apply But That'd Spoil the Surprise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein I will be doing sixty-nine oneshots inspired by prompts, all for SolKat. Lengths will vary, as will race and ratings, but the rating will never reach above teen, thus the Teen and Up warning. While I already have the list completed, feel free to share any one-word prompts you have, because I'm always open to suggestions.<br/>69 prompts for obvious reasons, and SolKat because I am incapable of writing anything else right now.</p><p>Prompts will be located at the beginning note and in the title, then explained in the bottom one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fight or Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fight Or Flight

_Fight or flight._  Something ingrained in your very being. Your species. Your instincts. _Attack or abscond._  You stare at someone who shouldn’t be here right now. Shouldn’t be here _ever_. They can’t be doing this. They just... can’t. _Charge or clear out._  Your red side says mutilate, your blue side says make a break for it. _Rush or run._  You feel your eyes sparking, whether to beat it, or beat him, you don't know. _Encroach or escape._

Because Karkat Vantas is kissing you.

And you have never felt more bipolar in your life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the prompt that made me want to do this fic in the first place, and I had fun finding all the synonyms XD
> 
> Okay, so this one is under a hundred words, so the next one will be longer. I promise.
> 
> ~Webs


	2. Hips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hips

 

You don't know how long he's been sitting here. Judging by his easy, even breathing, it's been several hours. Fuck, you feel like shit. How could you have _not_  noticed him climbing onto your lap, and then falling asleep there?

You sit at your desk chair in front of the lighted screen of your laptop, and Karkat is straddling your hips, his chest flush to yours, with his ass parked in your lap and arms limp as he has his nose tucked into the side of your neck. He wears nothing but his boxers, and he's fast asleep.

How the everloving _fuck_  did you not notice?! It's not everyday he instigates physical contact, but no, you were too wrapped up in your fucking coding to realize. You know you get kind of caught up in it sometimes, but this borders on concerning. 

You can only name two people who this would happen to. 1: Gamzee, when he's baked beyond belief, and 2: John while watching Con Air. You are not going to go into how you know that, so you shift under Karkat's weight. He's not exactly heavy, and he's not as bony as you, so it's not that it's uncomfortable being in this position; it's just your guilt squirming in your gut for how fucking unobservant you are. 

You remove your hands from the keyboard to settle them onto his muscle-covered hipbones and nuzzle your face into his blonde hair. The rabbit-soft locks don't so much as tickle your skin, and you inhale deeply the scent of Karkat. 

Licorice, mixed with cinnamon and sugar. There's some honey there too, but that's just rub-off from your own scent. And then there's this one scent you've never been able to place: something sweet, but savory, and just no utterly... KK. You've never smelled it anywhere else, and you don't want to; something about this scent being only Karkat's makes it yours too, and you like to think you're the only one to have noticed it. 

Karkat mumbles something, and you're immediately concerned you've woken him, but he just shifts his weight a little bit and then stills. His hand is now latched onto the pocket of the short-sleeved button-up you're wearing, and his forehead is now pressed to your neck where his nose was previously. He sighs against your skin, and you can't help but run your fingers through his hair. 

He makes a soft "mmm" sound in the back of his throat, sounding very close to a purr, and you smirk. With his extreme defense mechanisms, and his ability to bristle like a surprised kitten, as well as this tendency to almost purr, he's more like a cat than he'll ever know. 

His parents named him well. 

You chuckle into his hair, earning another soft mumble, and you continue carding your fingers and and out of his golden locks, to which he responds with more quiet, almost-purrs. He nuzzles closer to you, closing the small gap left between your chests and letting his other hand find purchase on your shirt. You cuddle him for several more long minutes, then plant a kiss on his first vertebrae and slowly shift him into your arms.

You carry him over to the bed in the corner, avoiding the random assortment of wires strewn across the floor, and set him gently onto the mattress. You then strip down to your own boxers ad locate your sweats, yanking them on.   
Karkat has a propensity to be uncomfortable with heat; he has a naturally high body temperature, meaning that when sleeping: no sweats and no shirt. You, on the other hand, always seem to be cold, so it is required that you wear sweats at the very least. 

You slip under the comforter and sidle up next to him, once again hooking an arm around his hips. He automatically snuggles closer, pillowing his head against your over-turned shoulder. You smile, taking off your glasses and setting them on the nightstand behind you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had no idea what to do for this prompt, without making it Mature (Which I do _not_ write), and settled on this. I seem to love writing cuddling scenes; I just can't stop writing them XD
> 
> As promised, this one is longer, but it's under one thousand words. Many of these are going to be rather short, but some will be longer.   
> I don't think I have anything else to say...  
> ~Webs


	3. Missing Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Missing Time
> 
> Warning: Sadstuck.

You two were young. Karkat was barely thirteen, you just over fourteen. Your two families had been friends for fucking ever, and your houses were so close you and Karkat were pretty much neighbors.

Both your families had decided it'd be a GREAT fucking idea to lug you all to the zoo, and force the semi-adults, the barely-teenagers and the not-quite-kids all together into a four hour outing.

You and Karkat were best friends, but that didn't make Tuna and Kankri, or Psi and Suff even remotely friends. In fact, if such a thing existed, they'd all be in some kind of black-romance with each other. So no. This trip did not bode well.

As soon as your parents said you were free to go as long as you kept in contact, you and KK took off towards the aquatic exhibit. Neither of you really liked fish, but neither did the rest of your families, so it was the safest place to go if you two wanted to escape.

You settled at one of the metal tables at the nearby food court outside of the reptile room, and just sat there silently until someone from zoo personal asked if you two would mind giving up your table for another family.

You both complied quietly, heading for the African exhibit. He'd never said it out loud, but you knew he loved the big cats located there, especially the lions. 

You remember he was standing on the third rung of the fence, head on his crossed arms as he watched the lethargic African kings meander around their enclosure.

"Hey, Soll?" He had said. "Do you ever wonder what it's like to die?" You had laughed, and asked him what that had to do with lions. He just silently nodded to the animal carcass that several of the lionesses were picking at.

"You're not being thuicidal, are you?" He had punched your shoulder and flipped you off, and that was enough for you to know he was just being philosophical. Sometimes you would wonder though, with all the shit he got at school for being bi.

Shit, despite all that, you sure miss those times, and you want to live in them again. You find yourself missing that memory, when you were both innocent, and you didn't have to deal with things like broken hearts, broken bodies and broken lives.

No, you certainly didn't have to deal with broken lives, missing lives. But that's all your life is filled with right now, break and missing. First Tuna to cancer, then your parents to the car accident, Suff to pneumonia. Haven't you lost enough? Hasn't God taken enough from you? 

No one should ever have to do this. No one should ever have to hold their best friend's bloody, shattered body, clinging to them as if that'll bring him back. No one should know what it's like to die.

  
No one should have to walk into an elementary school with their best friend to pick up their neighbor's kid, and watch as a random stranger pulls out a gun and shoots. Not once, not even twice, but twenty-six times. No one should escape unscathed while they watch their best friend crumple to the ground, drowning in his own candy-red blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, I sadstucked. I told myself I wouldn't do that for this fic, but with sixty-seven more fics to go, I guess it's kind of inevitable. 
> 
> Also, if you notice, this is a reference to the shooting in Connecticut. I didn't do anything around the time it happened, so here's my gift-fic for that. Actually, this was going to be a super fluffy fic with SolKat at the zoo. What happened?
> 
> When I saw this prompt, I immediately thought of alien abduction, and how victims have "lost time" where they don't remember anything, but this is much better than that, right? XD
> 
> Okay, ages for all the kiddies at the beginning:   
> Karkat: 13.  
> Sollux: 14.  
> Suff: 6.  
> Psi: 6 1/2.  
> Tuna: 22.  
> Kankri: 19.  
> I didn't have full names for Psi or Suff, so you just get nicknames XD
> 
> Soll and KK's age at the end:  
> Karkat: 19  
> Sollux: 20
> 
> ~Webs


	4. Acid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Acid
> 
> Warning: Slightly Sadstuck

Acid-  
 _noun_  
When one's words pierce their recipient. Of or pertaining to a venomous remark, word or sentence. See also: _venomous._

Yes, his words sting like acid, like a snake bite left to fester. You know it's just one of his mood swings, one of his bipolar flips, and he doesn't actually mean anything he's saying, but that doesn't stop the hurt, the pain, the reopening of old scars. 

**Mutant. Fuck up. _Mistake._ **

Words like whips lash out at you, raking their poisoned tips through the wounds they make, leaving you stunned and breathless. 

Hot, acidic tears sting your eyes, but you force them back. You can't let him know how much he's hurting you, leaving you damaged. 

**Freak of nature. Aberration. Blunder. You shouldn't even _exist._ **

Oh shit, you're crying now, toxic, dangerous tears spilling across your cheeks, leaving tracks of venom, burning you. 

He throws a lamp with his psionics, the ceramic object shattering to the ground, and you feel your heart shatter with it. 

You want nothing more than to hold him, to calm him down, to ease his pain, but every time you try, more words force you back. 

**Candy-red overestimation. Miscalculation. _Monster._ **

It's a few moments after that last word leaves his lips that he snaps out of it. His psionics stop and he drops to the ground, confused. Then he sees you, stupid, worthless, translucent red tears dripping to the floor. 

His eyes widen, his mouth dropping open into an expression of such tortured shock and pain, it only causes you to cry harder. 

"K-KK--" No matter the hurt in his face, the guilt, it doesn't stop you from bolting out of the room, because you already _know_ it's all your fault, that you're useless, that you're a screw up. 

But that doesn't stop the bleeding wounds, and it doesn't numb the acid any less. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, now I feel terrible. When I saw this prompt, I knew I was going to have an argument in it, but I didn't expect it to go this far. 
> 
> I don't think there are enough fics out there about Sollux's angrier side of his bipolarity, and I think it'd be interesting to analyze a SolKat relationship with this side of Sollux.  
> KK is super fragile, and I think if Sollux went into one of these phases, KK would feel really helpless, and would hate himself for it, and something like this would happen. 
> 
> This as another fun fic to find synonyms for XD
> 
> ~Webs


	5. Every You, Every Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Every You, Every Me

“Tho therendipity is meeting thomeone you were meant to be with?”

“No, it’s a happy accident, idiot. She like, _just_ explained that.”

“But thith whole movie ith about them meeting each other."

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point!”

“In thith context, their therendipity _wath_ meeting each other.”

“I guess so, but that doesn’t make its meaning ‘meeting someone’!”

“Geethe, you’re getting too worked up over thith.”

“Well, you’re explaining it wrong!”

“Therendipity to thome people ith the belief that no matter what choitheth you’ve made, no matter what you do, you’ll alwayth come to meet the same perthon you’re meant to be with. Tho, every you, and every me, that hath exithted, in all the doomed timelines and alternate realities, would have all ended up as matesprits, no matter what we did.”

“.... What.”

“Jethuth Chritht, you’re an idiot, KK.”

“And you’re a sappy jackass. Who the hell says stuff like that?!”

“If it’th tho thappy, why’re you bluthing?”

“I-I-- Shut the fuck up, Captor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, something not Sadstuck! 
> 
> So my friend challenged be to write one of these prompt-fics with just dialogue... How'd I do?  
> They're currently watching the fantastic film Serendipity (if it wants blatantly obvious XD), and are currently matesprits. 
> 
> My dad explained Serendipity to me like Sollux does, when he was talking about meeting my mom. So yeah, sappy through and through XD
> 
> I want to thank all the people who've read, commented and/or left kudos, because those little signs of support mean the absolute world to be. Thank you very much!
> 
> ~Webs


	6. Crest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Crest

Being Karkat's significant other isn't easy.

He's moody, self-loathing, bitchy and sometimes has worse mood swings than you do. When something goes wrong in life, he'll blame himself, and instigate an argument to cover up how much he's hurting inside. He'll yell at you, spew insults and rude names, and not mean a single word of it, because he isn't actually arguing with you. He's fighting _himself_ , and every colloquialism he throws at you is really meant for himself, meant to degrade himself into something he thinks he deserves to be.

When something like this happens, you have to be careful in the way in which you approach it. Sometimes he needs you to hug him, hold him until he calms down. Sometimes you have to stay silent, let him get his ranting out of his system before you force him to go to sleep. Sometimes, when he storms out, you have to find him, and walk with him to wherever he is going, and simply hold his hand. Sometimes you can't do anything, because he locks himself inside your room, and you just sit against the door. You have to wait until he unlocks it, because rushing him will only make him feel worse. 

You pride yourself in knowing what to do in these situations, instinct and observation telling you exactly what needs to happen. Because if you didn't, who would? 

Despite all your friends, despite all the people you two share your life with, only you know Karkat so well. Only you know what he actually means when he's bitching insults to the world that he actually doesn't hate. 

Yeah, Karkat says he hates a lot of things, but he really only hates himself, because only he can make himself hurt so bad, make himself want nothing more than to end it. 

You've never let him, and you've helped him through everything. 

You've helped him through the ups and downs, the twists and turns, the rises and falls. Because, really, if _you_ don't, who will?

This is a fact you both know, and both accept, because there's always going to be a rise after a fall, a smile after a frown. There's always going to be a drop before a leap, and a lapse before a crest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do believe this has turned into a Drabble. 
> 
> I was going to extend this into something a little more heartwarming, but I'm suffering from Writer's Block, and am quite unable to do so at this current point in time. 
> 
> The most commonly used definition of crest is the "crest" of feathers or spikes on animals and birds. I was going to do something with that, like maybe have an animalstuck or something, but I latched onto the idea of a crest being a high-point in life, the peak of a relationship. THAT is what I was originally planning, but it came out moodier than I expected.   
> Well, I'm sick. Who can blame me. 
> 
> ~Webs


	7. Itch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Itch
> 
> Warning: KarCat

You don't understand how he can like this flaming piece of shit. You mean _really_. Who _actually_ stops their wedding to find a girl they met _once_?

Oh, but he's completely wrapped up in this stupid movie, his red eyes darting across the screen as he's perched on the edge of the couch cushions, rolled back onto his haunches and black tail twitching excitedly behind him. It's actually quite amusing to watch him mouth the words along with the characters, soundlessly whispering around his pointy canines. 

You smirk, observing the way his inky ears flick in different directions to best catch the dialogue. You can spy the pink shell of his inner-ear, just barely poking out of the tuft of hair usually blocking it, and you desperately want to reach out and rub your fingers trough the kitten-soft locks. But he won't let you, because he doesn't like being reminded that he's a mutant, and touching his deformities only brings that to the forefront of his mind. 

Aw, but he just looks so cute, with his childish, beaming lips that turn up as the guy finally gets the girl. His teeth are prominently revealed, and you wonder how he keeps them so clean and white. In all the time you've known him, you haven't seen him do anything like brush them. 

Cats don't normally brush their teeth, do they? Is there some licking process that cleans them?

You snort at that ludicrous thought, and realize the movie's over. It's tradition within your household to watch the credits the whole way through, but you don't think you can stand it this time, so you get to your feet, stretching. He makes no protest against you changing the disk to one of "your" movies, and that strikes you as strange; he hates your movies. 

You turn to find him scratching feverishly at his ear with his foot instead of his hand, something you've grown quite used to. It looks damn uncomfortable, but when he does this, you get to see the rippling of his stomach muscles under his shirt, so you're not complaining. 

When you settle back onto the couch next to him, he's still scratching and seems to be getting irritated. You smirk at his displeased expression, watching him struggle to get the right spot for another minute or so, then speak up. 

"Do you have fleath or thomething?" He sends you a hiss but nothing more, now struggling even harder to reach the spot behind his ear that his foot deems impossible to reach. 

"I can't... fucking... _get_ it..." He mutters between growls, and you chuckle in response. 

Oh, he's going to hate you for this, but you can't help it: you reach over and delicately start scratching behind his ear. You expect him to let you cure his itch, then swear at you for touching him, but he doesn't. 

Instead, he rubs his head into your fingers, a soft purr starting in his chest. One of your fingertips brushes the tender spot at the base of his ear where the lobe would be if he _had_ earlobes, and he practically turns to pudding. 

He melts into a pile of happy cat-goo, sounding like a tractor on overdrive. You grin as he "goos" his way over to you, only half-looking where he's going with half-lidded eyes. You turn so he can curl up in your lap, nuzzling every bit of your neck he can reach. You feel the vibrating of his chest against yours, continuing to rub your fingers over his velvet hearing devices, and he melts against you. You wonder if it's possible to burst with all the purring he's doing. 

He surprises you again when his lips meet the concave dip of muscle beneath your own ear, leaving a whispered "thank you" against your skin, and you smile. 

"No problem, KK." He'd die without you, you're sure of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I saw this prompt, I knew immediately that KK needed to be a cat. Or half-cat. Whatever. I also think its a good play-off of his mutation if he's no longer a troll, so here we are: SolCat snuggles. I have no regrets. 
> 
> Except, you know, wishing this came out better. 
> 
> ~Webs


	8. Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hunger
> 
> Warning: This is a little dark, and there's some poorly masked implications, but this can be taken almost any way. 
> 
> Oh, and this is from KK's perspective, in case you were wondering.

Something in his eyes, dark.   
 _Hunger_.   
Twisting, coursing, luring.   
 _Hunger_.   
Something in his breathing as he pulls me closer, deep.   
 _Hunger_.   
Bringing, taking, giving.   
 _Hunger_.   
Something in the want, the need.   
 _Hunger_.   
Abating, rising, falling.   
 _Hunger_.   
Something in the stealing, the returning.   
 _Hunger_.   
Satisfied, clinging, content.   
 _Hunger_ ,  
 _Hunger_ ,

**_Hunger_. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this turned into a free-verse poem. I was not expecting that to happen, with any of these, but I think the best way to convey the emotions behind this one is in poetic form, so here it is. 
> 
> Yes, there are implied themes, but I wasn't actually meaning for it to go in this directions, so take it as you will. I don't think any more of these will be like this, though I might try my hand at another poem in the future. 
> 
> ~Webs


	9. Color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Color

Karkat doesn't blush easily. In fact, it's near impossible to get a rise out of him, and even harder to even _see_  the blush. Being Puerto Rican has its upsides apparently.

I spent our childhood trying to get even just a _tinge_ of pink to his cheeks, and I didn't catch a glimpse of anything remotely near an embarrassed flush.

Sometimes, if it had to do with things like his odd family life, I'd spot his skin turning just a shade darker, but it was never much.

The first time I saw him blush was in eleventh grade. March 23, at 10:13 am, to be exact.

We were walking down the hall to go to our next class when one of the senior guys from the theater department stopped us. Rufio Nitram was one of _those_ theater guys, the ones who're unfairly good-looking and talented, and live their life like a stand-up comedy; a very _good_ stand-up comedy. And Karkat had been crushing on him for fucking months.

Now you may ask, "Why did the guy Karkat's been crushing on stop you two in the hall?", and I'll tell you. Two words: _mutual interest_. Yep, you guessed right. KK's crush was asking him out, in the middle of a very crowded hallway, in front of a guy who may or may not have had a crush on him as well.

Surprisingly, Karkat didn't blush at the sudden invitation to coffee (and who asks someone to coffee in high school anyway?), or the flirty smile on Rufio's lips. In fact, he was quite calm when he turned Rufio down. _Turned him down._  You can imagine my surprise, as well as Rufio's and several spectators' when the words

"I'm flattered, but I have to decline." left KK's lips. Then KK nodded to Rufio before continuing down the hallway. It had taken Rufio and I a moment to realize what had just happened, then I nearly sprinted to catch up to KK.

Shit, this guy was like a rock. He wasn't even _fazed_.

"Um, KK? What the hell ith wrong with you?" I demanded when I had matches pace with him. He just responded with a nonchalant

"What?"

"Um, if I remember correctly, that wath Rufio Nitram, who you've had a cruth on thince _September._ "

"Yes. Yes it was." He kept his eyes trained ahead of him, gait easy as if nothing had happened.

"And you turned be down _becauthe_...?"

"I like someone else."

"Oh yeah, and who is that?" I could have sworn I saw his burgundy eyes flicker over to me, but it happened so fast, I still doubt myself. 'Sides, that's not the important part.

The important part was when his eyes supposedly looked back away, and crimson exploded across his cheeks. It was about that time that I started thinking red might be the prettiest color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wish this one was longer; maybe I'll write a longer version later. 
> 
> Anyway... Thank you for the support I've gotten on this so far! I really appreciate the kudos, and thank you satan for your comment!
> 
> ~Webs


	10. Linger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Linger
> 
> Warning: KarCat, and this is so sappy, it's not even funny. So utterly sappy, I can't believe I'm posting it.

Your alarm clock says it’s four-thirty in the morning, but you can’t sleep. Everything in your apartment is still, and even your laptop is powered down. You thought after all the yelling, this quiet, this silence would be good, welcome even, but it’s not. It just leaves you empty, and longing for any sound, any form of communication.

Your phone remains silent from where it rests on the desk next to you bed. You know he won’t call you; after all, you told him not to, right before you slammed the door at his retreating figure and proceeded to curse the hell out of him.

You groan and flip onto your back, raking your fingers through your hair. Despite your body heat, the sheets are cold, and there’s still the indent of another’s body on the bed opposite you. You’re brutally aware of all the empty space in the room, void of the little black ball of anger and hissing noises. There’s no romcom playing on the TV in the other room, and there’s no quiet humming that tells you he’s curled up in your computer chair with headphones on, waiting for music to lull the insomniac to sleep. There’s no nothing, and you know it’s your fault.

You don’t actually have a problem with him staying up half the night laying next to you with his DS, because you know his sleeping habits sometimes get the best of him. You don’t actually mind his soft purring when you wrapped your arm around his waist, because you know he can’t help himself. You don’t actually care if he stays inside during the summer so he doesn’t have to walk around with his tail and ears exposed, because you know how much he hates it when people see them. You had just needed something to bitch about, and he was the only person around.

You hadn’t expected it to escalate. You hadn’t expected him to be so surprised. You had expected him to fight back, to throw everything back at you by picking out your own flaws, but he didn’t. He just sat there with an open mouth, hurt etched in his features. And then you said things you shouldn’t have. Forbidden things. Things that have probably ruined everything you had between you.

You look back at your clock, and not twenty minutes have passed since you saw it’s annoying green digits last.

You sigh, glancing at the empty pillow beside you, then turn away from it, curling slightly under the blanket. You don’t know if he’ll be back, if he even _wants_  to be back. And even then, if it’s to just get his things and say goodbye properly before walking out again. You don’t know how many more sleepless nights you’re going to have if he does, or if it’s even an option to get him back.

You hope it is.

You can’t say you were fully asleep, but you were unconscious enough to not hear the window open, and had to be roused by the sound of shoes landing on the carpet in front of your desk to realize someone else is in the room.

You open your eyes slightly, still turned on your side, and see a lithe, short figure, sighing as it removes the ski-cap from its head. Whoever it is is framed by the light from the streetlamp outside, leaving their face blanketed in shadow, but you know who it is.

The ragged, hoarse sigh that escapes his lips is the only thing keeping you from throwing yourself at him.

You make no noise to alert him to your consciousness, just watch him as he quickly scrubs his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He sighs again, then turns his head to look at you. He seems unsurprised that your heterochromatic eyes are open, worrying at his lower lip with his pointy fangs. You abhor that habit of his, and you’re surprised you didn’t bring it up in your previous argument.

You should say something, shouldn’t you? Apologize for being the worst asshole that ever lived and the like.

“I thought I told you not to come back,” is what makes it’s way out of your throat, and it’s all you can do not to literally kick yourself.

He looks shocked for a moment, but then his expression slips into a sheepish smile.

“You said you’d kill me if I ever walked through the door again, so I climbed through the window.” Oh shit, you’re grinning, aren’t you?

“KK, thith ith on the fifth thtory.”

“And?” He looks so innocent, so unfazed, you can’t help the laugh that rumbles from your chest.

“And nothing.” You chuckle as you sit up, placing your feet on the floor. He cringes a little, and you can’t blame him, but when you stand to embrace him, he doesn’t push away.

His hands cling to the back of your shirt as he buries his nose into your sternum; you have a good foot of height on him, and you often wonder if it’s because of his mutation that he’s so short.

“Hey, KK?” He vibrates your chest with a soft

“Mm?”

“I’m thorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” You pull away a little bit, but he doesn’t.

“For what?”

“For having stupid sleeping habits, and for purring all the time, and for being a stupid recluse. Sorry for... looking like I do, and sorry for all the shit you’ve had to deal with because of it.” You screw your eyes shut and hug him tighter, eliciting a small gasp of surprise.

“You idiot. I don’t actually care about all that thit.”

“But you said--”

“I thay a lot of thingth, dumath.” You sigh, leaning down so your face is tucked into his ductile hair, and inhale the scent that had lingered on his pillow in his absence. “Pleathe don’t leave again.” You whisper. “I don’t like it when you’re gone.”

“Fine, but then you’re not allowed to say things you don’t mean anymore.”

“I think I can do that.” You grin, pulling him about three inches off the ground and planting a kiss on his neck. He doesn’t struggle, but you feel his heart rate pick up and his pulse skyrocket. “Hey, KK?”

“W-What, dumbass?”

“I love you.”

“You better, or this would be really awkward.” You grin at his only half-displeased frown.

You would die without him, you’re sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I mean by sappy?
> 
> Anyway, this is a sort of a Part Two to the previous fic "Itch". I was going to just do normal human KK, but apparently I was having KarCat feels or something, and this happened. 
> 
> I don't like how it came out at all, and I blame that on writer's block and the fact I'm sick for the third time in the past two months. I'll try not to make the next fic so sappy or stupid -_-'
> 
> Thank you for the kudos I've gotten so far! I really appreciate them! ^-^
> 
> Ciao!  
> ~Webs


	11. Hope is the Thing With Feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Hope is the Thing With Feathers
> 
>  **Warnings** : Blood, references to abuse, it gets super sappy near the end, because I had no idea how to finish it. There's a surprise from Karkat that I won't tell you up here, because that'd spoil everything. This is also super long (compared to previous works) because this wasn't something I could do in a super short fic. I don't know if I'll do others this long, but don't get your hopes up. There will be cheesy references to peacocks a couple times, just so I could fit this story into the prompt XD  
> Oh, and this is a super cliche story-line. Many, many, many people have done this with Karkat (well, the whole abuse part), but I really needed to do it to fit with what I was trying to do.  
> I'm being vague up here for a reason.
> 
> Oh, and I _suck_ at writing rants. Mostly KK rants. But Sollux rants too, and it freaking sucks, so I apologize for that.

There’s this kid in your class, and he is literally the object of every girl in the school’s affections, and quite a large portion of the boy population’s as well. He’s stocky, has scruffy ink-black hair and an even scruffier demeanor, dresses in jeans and hoodies, has lines under his eyes the color of coal, and has crimson eyes so blood red, many of the students asked the school nurse if they were contacts; they are not. He has _the_  worst attitude the world has ever seen, somehow manages to mouth off to the teachers every second of the day and not get expelled, and still manages to have the best grades in the entire school. His glare has been known to make people’s younger siblings cry, but still make all the girls, and half the guys, swoon.

His name is Karkat Vantas, and he is like an undercover peacock. He doesn’t know fuck about talking to people, pushes everyone away, and still has a bigger fan-club than Harry Potter’s.

You have been crushing on him for six months, two weeks, three days, four hours, six minutes and fifty-eight seconds, and he has just spoken to you for the second time. And by spoken to you, you mean him swearing the living shit out of you for your lisp.

“How can the universe even allow such fucking annoying impediment past its ever fucking-up disability sensors, allow your even more galling face to walk around unattended, and still force normal people to live while they have to watch your stupid lips move in time with your fucking lisp? The universe should just put us out of our misery--” You tend to tune out the rest of his rants, though his vocabulary is ever-impressive.

You let him rant for about five more minutes before interjecting, holding up your hand before the teacher chose to.

“Jethtuth fucking Chritht. I underthtand my lithp is _the_  wortht thing to ever happen to you, and I apologithe for thcrewing your entire life over with my impediment.”

“You do realize you can’t even say the word ‘apologize’ without fucking up?”

“Calm your tith, Vantath.”

“I do not appreciate annoying grublickers making references to my tits, thank you very much, Captor.” You look over at him in mild surprise. He’s staring unsmiling, but unglaring to the front of the classroom, slouched in the seat next to you. He doesn’t show a trace of sarcasm for his earlier comment, and this intrigues you.

“If you thay tho, Vantath.”

“Oi, if you’re going to fuck up my name everytime you say it, how about you don’t say it at all, hm?” You snort, turning your attention back to the lesson.

You teacher bores you for the next forty minutes with something about Charlemagne, then Karkat speeds out of the room faster than you can even say bye, leaving you feeling more like an idiot than you should.

_-oOo-_

You have had a crush on Karkat exactly one week more than when he made the annoyingly unsarcastic comment about his tits, and when he walks into History to take his assigned seat next to you, you know something is wrong.

He isn’t glaring, which is so fucking weird, you have no words, and he seems to be walking with a slight limp, wincing as he sits down. You think you see a bandage poking out of his sweatshirt sleeve, and you are positive he’s carrying himself as if he’s in pain.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he got in a fight, with the mouth he’s got, but that’s far from stopping the seed of worry that has planted itself in your stomach.

“Dude, are you alright?” You mutter so as not to bring too much attention to the fact that he's hissing quietly in distress.

“‘Course I'm okay, dipshit.” Holy shit, he didn't say fuck once in that entire sentence.

You frown and inspect his face further. He's expressionless save for the slight indent of his lower lip that tells you his teeth are worrying away at it in his closed mouth.

“You don't look okay.” You insist, and he refuses to look at you.

“And are you looking at me extensively enough to _know_  I'm not okay? Way to be a creeper, Captor.” Again, not a single f-bomb has been dropped.

The teacher's eyes glance back at the two of you, and he frowns curiously. You mouth the word ‘sorry’, and he returns to the lesson, thankfully not bringing everyone's attention to you and Karkat; you have a feeling Karkat doesn't want to be discussing anything with that class that he's in too much pain to discuss with you at the moment, a safe bet now seeing the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Holy thit, dude. You look like you're about to hurl.”

“I do-fucking-not. Now shut up, and don't open your mouth again for the duration of this class, or I will personally follow you home and carve out the contents of your small intestines with a chopstick and a crochet-hook.” You find it really hard to bring yourself to say a word more until the bell rings an hour and a half later.

_-oOo-_

Karkat's limp is gone by the next day, but you still play close attention to him the next few weeks. It seems it’s usually Mondays that he comes to school mildly injured, and sometimes, though very rarely, will actually have visible cuts or bruises.

When you say visible, you mean you have to be looking pretty fucking hard for them, and you barely catch a glimpse of them before they're expertly covered up by a well-placed hand or sweatshirt sleeve. You think Karkat knows you're watching him, and maybe that's why he feels comfortable enough by March to exchange Pesterchum handles with you, and thrust you into something you dare to call friendship.

All you know is the majority of the school is giving you the stink-eye in the hall, especially if you're walking with Karkat to your next class. You can't you blame them: you used to give a very similar look to Gamzee, Karkat's ex-boyfriend (yes, he is as gay as fuck, and you are so infitately grateful for this fact, you could sing). For some odd reason, Gamzee and Karkat are still friends, their bond only rivaled by the one you now share with the little ball of anger.

You wonder how they can stand all the awkward of being exes, but they seem to get along better than many so called “best-friends” that inhabit the school. In fact, they're almost like brothers, and when you start to hang out with Karkat's group of friends more, Gamzee treats you like a brother too.

It is so many levels of weird, you can only handle one day a week with the stoner who doesn't actually do any form of drugs; Karkat tells you he's always been like that.

 

 

Nothing out of the ordinary happens (a few more noticeable injuries aside), until about half-way through May. After you two started exchanging messages over Pesterchum, you realized you only live a couple blocks from Karkat, so videogame-day at your house has become a rather common occurrence.

Karkat coming to your house at two in the morning is however _not_  a common occurrence, and when he texts you to say he's standing outside your front-door, you don't know how to react. Your gay crush is standing outside your house in the pouring rain while your parents are on a five-day business trip at two-thirty in the morning?

Obviously something is wrong.

You nearly faceplant in the entry-way in your haste to get down the stairs, and only have a second to compose yourself again before opening the door.

You were expecting to be greeted by a scowl, maybe a “Hey fuckass, my insomnia is acting up, so play video-games with me”, but instead you get a pale face turned tallow by the crappy porch-light and wild, terrified red eyes. As you were opening the door, he was looking behind him hurriedly, as if he was scrared someone was following him, but as soon as you mutter

“KK?” in surprise, he whips around and nearly gives you a heart-attack with how scared he looks.

“H-Hey, Sollux.” He pants nervously, and you wonder if he had been running.

“Hey, KK. Um, what are you doing here?” You see him clutching his left shoulder with white knuckles, and see him visibly shake at the thought of something.

“U-Um, can I... can I just come in? Please?” He sounds so desperate, so vulnerable, you don’t hesitate in moving out of the way to let him inside. He walks past you a little timidly, and your stomach twists when you realize the shoulder he’s holding is growing steadily darker than the rest of the rain-damp sweatshirt.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I _look_  o-fucking-kay to you?” He hisses, but it lacks any of its usual bite. He turns to face you, and you can clearly see he’s holding back tears, wincing as he moves his shoulder. “Fuck, can I use your bathroom?”

“U-Uh, yeah. Firtht door on the left.” Unsure what else to do, you gesture up the stairs and he bolts away before you can do anything else. You hear the bathroom door slam, followed by the lock, and wait several more seconds before following him.

The sound of quiet swears comes from the other side of the white wood, and you chew your lip, feeling increasingly useless. You have no idea what’s going on, and know the only real reason Karkat is here is because you live so close to him.

You reach out and nervously rap your knuckles on the door. “Karkat?” There’s no answer for several long seconds, aside from the muttered curses, and you think you even catch a pain-filled whimper.

“Do you have any, um... what the fuck do you call it... antiseptic?”

“Yeah, it’th under the think.” There’s some rummaging around and a slightly louder curse before you get another direct response from Karkat.

“Fuck, I can’t find it.”

“I know where it ith. Jutht let me in, and I’ll get it.”

“What? Fuck no!” You purse your lips.

“Karkat, even if you do find it, how’re you going to reach your thoulder?” He’s silent for another second.

“Shit, fine.” He unlocks and opens the door slightly, refusing to meet your eye as you join him and look under the sink for the brown bottle of antiseptic. You find it at the very back, hiding behind vinegar and some kind of detergent.

When you straighten again, you clue in on something you missed in the dark lighting of the porch: Karkat has several darkening bruises on his neck, and there seems to be blood in his hair.

“Were you in a fight?” The words leave your lips without your knowledge, and rest heavily in the air for a moment, then Karkat rolls his eyes, though you can see him gnawing at the inside of his lip.

“Can we discuss what the fuck happened to me after I’m done bleeding all over your bathroom floor?” You glance down, and indeed, red is dripping onto the rug, and the amount of it worries you.

“Fine.” You set your jaw determinedly. “You betht get comfortable; I think we’re going to be here for a while.” He rolls his eyes again and sits on the toilet, back facing you. “Take off your thweatthirt while I go get the firtht-aid kit.” He grumbles and starts complying as you run and fetch the largest first-aid kit in the house from the kitchen, taking the stairs back up three at a time.

You open the door to the bathroom again, finding Karkat still sitting on your toilet, this time with nothing but a very baggy wife-beater hanging from his sturdy-frame, and you clue into yet another thing you were not prepared for:

“You’re a girl.” Showing through the low-hanging armpits of the wife-beater is the side of a very badly-concealed bra, and the way Karkat is seated reveals an uncomfortable amount of the chest.

Karkat looks up at you in surprise, then his face contorts into confusion, eyebrows knitting together.

“‘Course I’m a girl.” No, he’s got to be pulling your leg. This has got be some really terrible joke. No way in fucking hell is Karkat Vantas an actual girl. “Stop looking at me like I’m some kind of alien, Captor. Is it so weird that I actually have boobs?” He --no, _she_ \-- stands defiantly, but almost immediately cringes in pain, hand flying up to the quickly-bleeding shoulder.

You push all your utter “what-the-fuckness” to the side and dive forward, forcing him --her, damnit-- back down onto the toilet, setting the first-aid kit on the floor next to your kneeling legs.

“Thtay thtill, dumbath. I don’t actually like having blood everywhere.” He --sorry, she-- flips you off and she hisses at the sudden movement.

You roll your eyes, and move the strap of the wife beater down her arm to get a better look at the wound, ignoring how utterly _wrong_  this whole situation is.

Your stomach clenches at the vicious gash surrounded by hundreds of tiny lacerations that cut sideways across her left shoulder, all bleeding, and some look like they have little bits of glass in them. The biggest cut, the aforementioned gash, looks clean of debris, but might actually need stitches. You are in _way_  over your head.

“Holy thit, KK. What the everloving _fuck_  happened?!” A harsh laugh forces itself from his --shit, you mean her-- chest. It’s humorless, and more pain-ridden than anything.

“I had a run-in with a glass coffee-table, what the fuck does it look like? Oh, and that fucking vodka bottle did a number on me too, didn’t it?” How can he -- _fuck_ , you are never going to get used to this. How can _she_  keep laughing at something like this? “Bruises are courtesy of one very drunk foster-father, while the cuts I owe to his even more drunk drinking buddy.”

You have to force your hands into action, _really_  feeling sick at this point, and not all sure if you should call your parents, or the police, or Child Protection Services, or _someone_ , but you do nothing other than busy yourself with cleaning the wound.

Karkat inhales sharply each time the antiseptic-soaked gauze hits her skin, and you realize you’re going to have to get all this glass shit out before doing anything else.

“Um, you’ve thtill got glath in your woundth. You mind if I get it out?” He --god fucking damnit, screw it all: _she_ \-- jerkily shakes her head. You taste blood, finally noticing you have worried away your lip to the point of splitting. _Well, that’s fucking great._

“S-So, why’re you so surprised I’m a girl?” She asks through clenched teeth as you start delicately picking out the shards of vodka bottle with sterilized tweezers. You get this feeling she’s begging you not to ask about her wounds anymore, so you sigh and play along.

“You haven’t notithed the entire fucking thcool thinkth you’re a guy?” Her next laugh actually sounds half-real.

“Are you fucking serious? Jesus Christ, you really are just a bunch of idiots!”

“Hey, it’th not _our_  fault you walk and talk like the bitchietht guy that ever lived. Do the _teacherth_  even know you’re not a dude?”

“How the fuck should I know? I was under the impression that the entire school was lesbian.”

“Who’th the idiot again?” You mutter under your breath, having successfully removed all intruding pieces of glass.

“For someone who's spent the past two years thinking I'm a guy, you're taking this rather well.” She's right: you _are_  taking this rather well, and that surprises you even more; you're usually prone to flipping the fuck out.

“I'm probably jutht in thock, probably by the fact that you have boobth thmaller than a twelve year-old'th.” This earns you a slap on the head from her uninsured hand, but nothing else before you relapse back into awkward silence.

You turn something over in your mind, slowly starting to patch up her shoulder with gauze-pads and bandages, and debate actually bringing this into the conversation.

“Um, I've kind of thuthpected thomething wath going on, for monthth now.” She makes a non-committed noise in the back of her throat, and for some reason you think her eyes are closed. “Why... Why haven't you thaid anything about it?”

“I haven't exactly known you for fucking ever, Captor. I can't trust you with everything.” You try not to let that hurt you too much; you actually thought you were getting somewhere in this friendship, but apparently not.

“Then what about Gamzee? I know you two are fucking clothe. I'm thure he would have lithtened if you jutht--”

“The first thing Gamzee would have done was call the police, and subsequently the fuck-offs over in CPS. As much as I hate living with this two-ton sack of fucks, it's better than the past two foster homes they've stuck me in. Judging from the luck the universe has decided to fuck me with, I'd just end up with some other drunk with a hard on for beating kids. I mean, at least here I'm close to your house.” You frown. Does she really only think of you as the house she goes to to get patched up?

“I take it you've been in the fothter care thythtem for a while now.” Another husky laugh that sounds completely wrong for a child to make.

“Since I was fucking five years-old.” You pause your bandage wrapping.

“Holy thit.” You breathe.

“You don't have to tell me. I've been in eighteen different homes since I was six, and twelve of them have been home to fucking drunks, whether it be the dad, the uncle, the fucking oldest son or even the grandma. Now _she_  packed a mean punch.”

“How ith it even fucking legal for you to go platheth like that?”

“Sollux, if you haven't fucking noticed, people don't actually give a shit about kids like me.” You mutter

“ _I_  give a thit about you,” so quietly, you wonder if she hears you. She doesn't give any sign that she did other than for her arms to tense where rest in her lap, but even then, this tells you nothing because you just inadvertently tightened a bandage too tight. “Hey, I really think you thould go the the hothpital.”

“Fuck no. I'm perfectly fine with your crack-job work of de-glassing me.”

“Are you thaying that becauthe you're _actually_  fine, or because you jutht don't want to explain how you got hurt becauthe that meanth admitting you're in an abuthive home with a drunk that'll probably end up killing you, all becauthe you want to keep in contact with a douche you've only been friendth with for two monthth, who'th only good for putting fucking bandaidth over woundth becauthe apparently he ithn't truthtworthy enough to be told that hith friend ith being beaten to hell on a daily bathith, becauthe apparently it doethn't matter at all that he'th been freaking out the patht two monthth becauthe he _knew_  thomething wath going on but he knew his fuck-up of a friend didn't trutht him enough to actually tell him anything important, dethpite the fact that he _actually_  doeth really care for the inthufferable douche bag sitting on his toilet becauthe thee _fucked up_ and didn't tell ducking anybody that thee could be _dead_  right now if hadn't been able to make it to the house of one shitty friend that doethn't matter enough to tell anything?!” Somewhere over the course of your rant, you had stopped working, and Karkat had turned around a bit to watch you with a slack jaw and wide eyes.

You realize half your argument was basically the same thing restated in different words, but it sounded impressive, so you glare down a very surprised Karkat, your chest panting slightly from the long-winded speech.

“S-Sollux--” 

“You know, for thomeone who'th going to end up Valedictorian, you're pretty thtupid.” You two don't break eye contact for several long minutes, and it's Karkat that has to look away. She turns her head slightly, sighing with a very sad smile. 

“I already know I'm stupid, stupid. So sue me for wanting someone who's not going to flip his shit when I end up on his door-step with a black-eye. Sue me for wanting a friend I can trust more than someone I refer to as my brother. I wouldn't have even come here tonight if I didn't know you already suspected something was up. I would have found some alley and done all this shit myself; I've done that enough times before to have gotten pretty good at it.” You wince internally. She would have actually tried to do this herself?

“Tho I really am jutht the guy you rethort to with no where elthe to go? Jethuth, love ya too, KK.”

“What? Of course not, dumbass! I came here because I trust you, more than Gamzee!” She's fixing you with a glare now, and you're not sure if you should feel confused or confronted. 

“Apparently that ithn't much if you've waiting thith long to thay anything about it!”

“You fucking insufferable twat!” She's spun around on the toilet seat to face you now, rage-ridden face inches from yours. “Are you really this spiteful?! Jesus Christ, forgive _me_  if in a little scared of what people would think of me if they knew I'm a foster kid who's parent fucking offed each other in their kid's nursery! Forgive _me_  for finding it fucking hard to make friends based on the fact everyone I've ever gotten close to has tried to rip my life apart again! Forgive _me_  if the one guy I actually trust with all this shit is the most insufferable douche to ever walk the earth! Forgive _me_  if I'm terrified to _leave_  my house because my drunk of a foster father always sits by the front door! Forgive _me_  if for one _second_  you thought I didn't trust you, when I've never trusted someone more completely!” She spins back around, leaving you stupefied and staring at her with an open mouth. “Forgive _me_ ,” she practically whispers. “if coming here tonight was the hardest fucking thing I've ever had to do because you're kind of the one person I'm actually scared of losing.” She lets out a shaky sigh and quickly scrubs her eyes with the back of her wrist. “You almost done back there?” It takes you a second to respond, as you are trying on reorder your brain into a correctly functioning organ. 

Then you sigh and resume bandaging. 

“'Thould only take a few for minuteth, but I really think you thould go to the hothpital.” She barks out a laugh, wincing as your fingers brush the raw skin of her neck. 

“Yeah, I'm totally going to go to the hospital with the insurance I _totally_  have, and let them call CPS on the douche bag a couple blocks away.” Your eyebrows knit together. 

“KK, why are you so scared to go to a new fothter home?”

“I told you: it's not going to be any better than this one.”

“Well, maybe it will--”

“You think I didn't delude myself into thinking that when I was too young to realize the only fucking reason I was in those homes was because I was too fucking naive?”

“What the fuck ith that thuppothed to mean?”

“Sollux, when you've had the life I've had, it's hard to find anyone to blame but yourself.”

“Bullthit.” She laughs again, running her fingers through her hair. 

“Yeah, well, whatever. I'd really prefer to stay here than go somewhere new.”

“But _why_?!” She seems unfazed by your venom. 

“Because I'm a fucking selfish idiot, that's why.” This stops the next words threatening to leave your mouth. 

“What do you mean?”

“I told you earlier that I... like being this close to someone I can trust. If I move again, I'll probably be half-way across the country in a new city, new school, and a new beating schedule. I won't have, well, you.” Okay, of all the fucking sappy things she could have said right now, she had to choose the one that makes your heart leap into your mouth and threaten to make you grin. So you really have gotten somewhere in this friendship. 

You stop yourself from thinking maybe it's more than that. 

You realize you still have a crush on this kid, despite the fact you thought you were gay for her, when in reality you were (are) straight for her. You always knew you're kind of bi, definitely leaning more towards queer, but it still surprises you that you can like Karkat the same way after she just did a gender-flip. 

Well, you're sure weirder things have happened. 

“Oi, you almost done?” You jerk yourself back to reality, and finish tying off the last bandage. 

“Y-Yeah, I'm done.” You stand shakily, lifting all the bloody gauze and soiled bandages to dump them in the sink. You watch at Karkat gets to her feet as well, wincing with almost every movement. 

You bite your lip for the umpteenth time since Karkat walked in, careful to not reopen the self-inflicted split. You've had to deal with blood quite enough for one day. 

Speaking of which, your dads are going to kill you for the blood stains on the rugs. You kneel down to inspect them, deciding the stains won't come out, but that you can buy a new set before they get back. 

“Um, you gonna let me out of the bathroom or what?” You look up to find Karkat standing over you, arms crossed but a teasing smile on her lips. 

You smirk as well, straightening to show her again that you have a good foot and a half of height on her. She knows that's what you're doing, so instead scowls and pushes past you into the hall. After gathering up the bath mats and rugs, you follow her downstairs and are halfway through the kitchen door before you realize she plans on leaving now. 

You spin around and find her struggling into her hoodie on the threshold, cursing under her breath. You drop the bloody rugs just inside the kitchen and stride over to Karkat to yank away her hoodie. 

“Hey!” She protests. “Give that back!”

“No way in hell are you going back to your fothter home.” You bite, folding her sweatshirt quickly over your arm and heading back to pick up the rugs before heading into the kitchen, beckoning for Karkat to follow you. You hear her curse, but she complies, and soon you have her situated at the island with a hot mug of tea in front of her. 

She just kind of states at the opaque gold water, intrigued as if she's never seen such a thing. 

“Jutht try it, KK.” You say over the lip of your own mug. “I promithe it'th good.”

“But I don't like tea.” She murmurs offhandedly. 

“Well, you've never tried _my_  tea, tho don't judge it before you try it.” She mutters an insult, but still dares a sip at the tea that's so full of honey, you can hardly call it tea anymore. 

She's downed her mug, and yours, in three seconds flat. 

You blink at your now-mugless hand, and don't fight back the grin overtaking your features. No one, not even Vriska, can resist your tea. You look back at Karkat in amusement, watching as she licks her lips and sighs in contentment. 

“‘Told you.” You mutter around your grinning lips. 

“Shut the fuck up.” She throws at you, but it seems that smile is glued to her face. You’re going to hate bringing this up, but you have to; you definitely know she won’t.

“Tho, I know you don't want to tell the polithe or Child Protection Thervithes, but you can't go on like thith, KK.” Her smile vanishes, and she looks away. “And I can't let you. You can thtay here tonight, but thomething tellth me that'th illegal, tho we’re thkipping thchool tomorrow and contacting whoever'th in charge of you, okay?” She makes no movement to tell you she heard, but you know she's listening. “You can requetht moving to a home clothe to here if you want, and even though that might not happen, I'm not letting you go to another abuthive home.” Her eyes flicker to you in surprise. 

“And how the fuck are you going to do that?”

“If you think I’m jutht going to duck out of thith whole prothteth, you are theriouthly inthane.” You hold her incredulous gaze until she looks away again, this time smiling.

“And this is why I trust you, dipshit.”

“Well, I’m glad, becauthe you’re about to thee a lot more of thith fathe from now on.”

“You know, under different circumstances, I might just kiss you right now.” If you still had tea, you’d be choking on it by now.

Still, you manage to splutter incoherently for a moment, then realize Karkat is grinning at you, flashing a mouth of ice-white teeth.

“Hah! I _knew_  you were crushing on me!” You’re sure having a lot of trouble reclaiming normal breathing patterns. “You’re so fucking transparent! Plus, you know, over half the school has a crush on me. I’m not even being presumptuous on that, am I?” You wordlessly shake your head, fully aware of the blush all across your face.

She’s smiling differently now, watching you with a slight cock to her head and something like... pity?

“Bi, right?” Again, you nod without saying anything. “I assumed, considering you only just found out I was a girl. Okay, seriously. Is it really that hard to tell what gender I am?”

“You have no idea.” She huffs, resting her chin on the arms crossed over the tiled counter.

“I guess that explains why Coach always puts me on the boy’s team when we separate for sports.” You manage a snicker through your embarrassment.

“And why all thothe suppothedly ‘lethbian’ girlth are chathing after you.” She laughs, and this time is actually sounds real, not harsh and too mature for someone her age.

“Oh dear god, I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think our school was that diverse!” You both laugh for a good minute, then Karkat abruptly stops. “Hey, Sollux, me knowing you like me doesn’t change anything, alright?” It’s your turn to cock your head in surprise. “Um, I know it’s not like we’re going to see each other a lot anymore anyways, but I don’t want things between us to be different. I still want to be your best friend, because even if I don’t see you like you see me, I... might... later. I don’t know!” She buries her face in her arms. “Just... promise me nothing’s changed, okay? That I can still tackle you when you annoy me, and still punch you when you beat me at video games, and still treat you like I always have. I just need... some normalcy right now.” You take a deep breath, because you kind of suspected this all. Her liking you back was a longshot at best.

“Nothing’th changed. You can thtill tackle me when I annoy you, and punch me when I beat you at video gameth, and treat me like you alwayth have.” You catch a glimpse of her crimson irises peaking out over her pale arms that really look far too manly.

“Th... Thank you, Sollux.” Her eyes flicker away. “For everything.”

“No problem. What’re betht friendth for?” You catch her smile, and think that maybe things will be alright.

_-oOo-_

You have had a crush on Karkat Vantas for fourteen months, one week, three days, eight hours, fifteen minutes and twenty-four seconds. It’s been six months since she moved out of the house four blocks away from you, and into the one three blocks away from you in the opposite direction. It’s been six months since Karkat has come to school injured, and it’s been two since she’s had to go to therapy. It’s been four months since the grand populace of your school finally got it through their heads that Karkat is a girl, and that those who thought they were straight were actually lesbian, and those who thought they were gay were actually straighter than a ruler.

It’s been two weeks and four days since Karkat came over to your house, whooped your ass spectacularly at Black Ops, and said she was finally over the need for normalcy. It’s been two weeks and three days since she yanked you down to her height and kissed you in the middle of the school hallway, causing said grand populace to flip the fuck out.

It’s been one week and six days since you said you loved her the first time, and it’s been one week and five days since she returned the words.

It’s been six minutes since you’ve started this sappy romcom that she is completely obsessed with, and it will be another hour and a half before you’re allowed to speak again. It’ll be a million years before you mind, and even longer before you’ll stop caring about her.

Surprisingly, most of the people crushing on Karkat are still crushing on her, and she’s still considered the most attractive person in school. She’s still a bloody introvert, who only has two real friends, and is still on the brink of being expelled for mouthing off to the teachers. She still confuses the fuck out of new students, still makes fun of your lisp, and still sucks at most video game. She’s still valedictorian, an insufferable douchebag, doesn’t actually realize how amazing she is, and still dresses like a guy.

So maybe she still is an undercover peacock, just some kind of super-mutated female one, with even more brilliant feathers than her male counterparts. All you know is maybe you’ll get to see more of the the _real_  her, the one not hiding behind all the feathers. You're willing to bet on the hope that you will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yep. KK's a girl, is in a super sappy relationship with Sollux, and doesn't give a shit. I almost hate how this came out, and I really should be doing homework right now, but I had to get this idea out or I would never write it.
> 
> Oh, does anybody know how to make indents on this site? I can't figure it out.
> 
> Wow, I felt like I a shit-ton more to say, but I can't think of anything, so I'll edit it later if I think of anything. Thank you all for your support so far! I really, really appreciate it! ^-^
> 
> ~Webs


	12. Abalone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Abalone
> 
> Warnings: Sappy, makes no sense, and is actually probably considered a drabble. You have been warned.

If it wasn't for his crimson eyes and charcoal skin, you'd say blue and pink are your favorite colors. Like, a really pastel-y pink and a midnight blue. Pretty weird combination, huh? He thinks so too, but he's the one wearing the shit, so he can't actually say anything. 

Another weird combination is the fact that he's a surfer-dude, tan and muscular, and you're a nerdy-boy, lanky and lispy, who hates the beach with a burning passion. Like you wouldn't care if all the land masses joined together and you never had to be within six thousand miles of an ocean, sea, lake or any other large body of water. 

But KK? He was practically born on a surfboard and he talks to all his pet fish like Feferi does. Sometime you think they can actually understand him, and will rub against his hand whenever it's in the water.

It's fucking weird and you're not even sure how you two started this relationship. You remember where, and you remember when, but how is something you cannot fathom. The fathomability of this does not compute in either of your brains. 

All you know is you've never once regretted it. Hells no. Regret is something even more unfathomable than all the continents actually reforming Pangea. 

No, it is very hard to think of regret when what should be the macho-man in a gay relationship is willing to cuddle up on your chest and let you fiddle with his snarly, scruffy black hair. If he's being completely honest with himself, he prefers being the cuddly type (we're going to ignore the fact he's more ripped than an Olympic gymnast), and you know it, so gladly indulge him with late-night snuggling on the couch. 

That's what the two of you are doing when he sighs and you know immediately that something's wrong. He's laying smack-dab on top of you, chin resting lazily on your sternum, legs tangled with yours at the end of the couch. You have one arm wrapped loosely around his lower back, the other around his shoulders to keep him from falling off, and you had been looking at the TV, where there's some shitty show on, but as soon as the exhaled air hits your chin, you turn to look at him. He's watching you silently, cherry-red irises following every minute movement of your face. 

You love the way he inflates his cheeks slightly when thinking, the way it puckers his lips ever so slightly. He has a lot of quirks like this actually, and you pride yourself in knowing every single one of them. Like how when his favorite song comes on, he'll pause anything he's doing to hum quietly along and tap his fingers against his leg. Or like when he eats spaghetti, and he chews exactly six times before swallowing each bite. 

But this is your favorite quirk, him mulling something over with his cheeks puffed out. He can't blame you when you lean forward a little and quickly peck his musing lips, but that doesn't stop him from frowning a little bit. 

“What’th up?” You inquire, starting to card your long fingers in and out of his inky locks. 

“Nothing. I was just thinking.” You smirk. 

“Obviouthly.” You snicker at his scowl. “Tho, what were you thinking about?” His expression snaps back to pensive faster than a traffic light, but you're used to this quirk too, so just continue to mess with his hair. 

“About seashells.” If you didn't know him, and know when he's being a twat, you'd say he was just jerking you around, but he's not. You remain silent and wait for him to continue. “I mean, everyone's always saying you can hear the ocean if you put one to your ear, but it's actually just rebounding sound waves hitting your eardrums. It kind of makes me depressed.” It's your turn to frown. 

“Why?”

“Because something that people say is magical isn't, and the feeling that it was something good doesn't last.” Your frown deepens, knowing that's not all.

“KK, tell me what'th wrong.” When he doesn't answer, you struggle into a sitting position, keeping him pressed to your chest as you lean against the armrest of the couch. He makes only a small mumble of protest before straddling your hips and leaning his crossed-arms to the base of your throat, fixing you with a puzzled stare.

“Nothing's really... _wrong_ , I was just thinking that a lot of things that once seemed magical fade and stuff.” You feel your stomach drop, not liking where this is going. “I've had a lot of things fade, I guess, so one more wouldn't hurt too much, but...” He bites his lip, and suddenly looks very distressed. “There's some things that I don't _want_ to fade, and knowing that they still could... scares me.” He breaks eye contact, and you really can't get this apprehensive squirming in your stomach to stop. 

You start slowly rubbing his bare back, in an effort to calm him as well as yourself. He still won't look at you, fiddling with the dark brown, string choker around his neck. Inlaid in the center is a large hunk of abalone, a chaotic blend of shell pinks and cobalt blues, and you keep your gaze on that instead of letting your eyes drift to his face. 

“Um, KK, what're you getting at?” You feel him lightly drumming his fingers on your collarbone and letting out another sigh. 

“I just... don't want this to fade.” You can't stop your head from jerking back to look at him. He facing you now, cupping your face in his coarse palms. “What we have, right now.” He has the habit of forcing you to get caught up in his eyes, so red and so bright, you completely lose all train of thought. “I don't want you to be just another seashell that can only give rebound sound.” Stopping the smile overtaking your face is a nigh impossible; Karkat can be masterfully poetic when he gets in the mood. “Promise me this isn't going to fade, Sollux. Promise me.”

You mull this over, only slightly teasingly because you can't deny the relief slipping through your veins, and deftly finger the licks of hair that slip down in front of his ears. 

“Weeell, I've alwayth been told that you thouldn't make promitheth you can't keep...” You hear his sharp intake of breath, and smirk. “But i gueth thome thtuff ith worth it, ithn't it.” You pull him closer and nuzzle your nose into his jaw, letting soft chirrs ease him back against you. He insults you once, but slips his hands down to your neck and tugs you into his lips. You're quite happy to comply, palms settling onto his hips and pulling him even closer. He smiles into the kiss, whispering something that sounds like 

“Abalone,” and no, regret is something you two are not capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had writings for this prompt in the works for over a week now, but never liked where I was going with it, so scrapped the entire thing and rewrote it as this. I cannot even begin to describe how different this is from the original version, and I'm not sure if I like it. 
> 
> Anyway, my headcannon for their heights: It flucuates between stories, and what kind of KK I want to portray, so sometimes he's level with Sollux's chin, sometimes he barely makes it to Sollux's chest, and sometimes he's shoulder height. I just imagine Sollux as being super tall and lanky, and KK kind of short and compact (usually pretty ripped as well, if you've noticed with my writing X3). In this story, (and if they were standing at all in it) KK would be just a little too short to rest his chin on Sollux's shoulder. 
> 
> Oh, and KK is shirtless for this entire fic, if you hadn't noticed. I dunno, I just like writing shirtless KK. 
> 
> A CLASSMATE OF MINE WAS DRINKING _FAYGO_ TODAY DURING FINALS. My Homestuck buddy and I would not stop laughing, especially when the kid didn't even really know what he was drinking X3.
> 
> Okay, I have no idea why I just told you all that. Anway, thank you for your support thus far! I really, really, _really_ appreciate it!
> 
> ~Webs


End file.
